


The Heart of a King

by slashadherent



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Courtship, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mpreg, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sassy Bilbo, Thorin Is an Idiot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-14
Updated: 2013-06-17
Packaged: 2017-12-14 23:10:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/842465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slashadherent/pseuds/slashadherent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To say Bilbo was not amused would be the understatement of the era. Finding out he was pregnant after being rejected by his lover and cast out of his would-be home had put Bilbo in an extremely foul humor and he knew just the dwarf to share his misery with. Bilbo was a hobbit with a mission and, really, Thorin should learn to hold his tongue if he wanted to escape relatively unharmed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. An Unexpected Surprise

**Author's Note:**

> This is completely unbeta'd as I have no beta. Please point out any mistakes you see and I will fix them asap! I'll be updating as much as possible but don't expect regular updates, work is kicking my behind at the moment. This was supposed to be quite short but already it is turning into a bit of a monster. 
> 
> This a fill for the Hobbit Kink Meme. The request was:
> 
> "Ok, so we've seen all the prompts where everyone survives the BOTFA and Bilbo leaves immediately after because he's been banished and Thorin doesn't realize until later once his gold-lust is gone how much he regrets it. And when Bilbo gets back to the Shire, he realizes he's pregnant, and raises Thorin's kid in secret, etc etc.
> 
> Basically, I want that, except half way back to the Shire, Bilbo realizes he's pregnant. And instead of running and angst-ing, he turns the fuck back around to Erebor, storms the damned mountain and demands that Thorin gets on his knees and beg for forgiveness because Bilbo KNOWS how precious children are to Dwarves.
> 
> Basically, I want BAMF!Bilbo, and a regretful Thorin who spends like a year lavishing Bilbo with gifts in an attempt to win him back.
> 
> Can be fem!Bilbo if you're not a fan of mpreg!
> 
> +1 Thorin realizes STRAIGHT after the BOFTA that Bilbo is his One and spends the aftermath of the battle looking for Bilbo. 
> 
> +10 if when Bilbo storms back into Erebor to confront Thorin, the rest of the company is in the room watching (and they're all on Bilbo's side)
> 
> +100 if Bilbo gets coddled beyond belief by the company, and Thorin is jealous that he doesn't get to be as affectionate with him because he's still earning back trust.
> 
> BASICALLY I JUST WANT REPENTANT AND LOVE STRUCK THORIN PLEASE???"
> 
>  
> 
> I know that long fills can cause errors on the meme so I'll be updating there and here for ease of reading. You can view the original prompt and fill [here.](http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/6263.html?page=10#comments)
> 
>  
> 
> ______________________________________________________________________________________________________________

  


###  [Chapter 1:](http://archiveofourown.org/works/842465) An Unexpected Surprise

 

 

“Stupid stubborn dwarves, and their stupid idiotic pride and their stupid adorable hairless feet,” grumbled Bilbo as he dipped his hands into the refreshing water of the creek. He groaned as he cupped his hands and brought the water to his face, attempting to rub off the dirt and grime that had accumulated because he couldn’t even begin to remember the last time he was able to bathe properly. 

It felt as though he’d been traveling for the last year, because he had, and just when he was supposed to get some rest after very nearly turning into a hobbit cabob, skirting a diplomatic disaster of epic proportions and participating in a battle that had absolutely nothing to do with him, thank you very much, his banishment still held!

“Great arrogant King under a giant rock!” He growled as he plopped down upon the smooth pebbles aside the creek. He slid his feet into the cool water and continued to grumble as he scrubbed his arms vigorously to rid them of the dirt. It would have been much nicer had he been able to get some soap of a kind, perhaps from Dale, before leaving but Balin had been very adamant that Bilbo should leave as soon as possible, lest Thorin awaken from his injuries to find the hobbit still within their midst and decide that banishment was too nice a punishment. 

He sighed and quickly began to unbutton his shirt. It was filthy and much beyond repair but it was all he had at the moment. So, he slipped it into the water and began scrubbed, almost as vigorously as he did himself, but made sure not to be too rough since it was most definitely on its last thread. 

Glancing behind himself he saw Gandalf sitting atop a fallen log, smoking pensively on his pipe. Their journey had been rather quiet thus far. Gandalf had been enraged when he first heard of Bilbo’s banishment, but through prodding of the hobbit and statements of the dwarves simply not being worth it, he had finally conceded to Bilbo’s wishes and agreed to accompany him home to the Shire without confronting Thorin, though their trek had been slow and full of heavy silence. Bilbo felt a great surge of warmth well up in his chest and allowed a smile to grace his face. It was very refreshing to have such a friend to stick by him at all costs and while they had not spoken of it, Bilbo would be forever grateful to Gandalf for it. 

With a sigh he turned back around and wrung his shirt of as much excess water as he could before placing it on a larger rock beside him to dry. Once he was sure it was spread out as much as possible he again dipped his hands into the creek and began to clean his chest, stomach and legs. Had the creek been larger he would have attempted a full bath, but when the water barely reached his ankles there wasn’t much to do for it. 

_I think I could fall in love you._

_I think I already have._

Bilbo clenched his eyes shut as the whispered words drifted back to him through the chasm of his anger. He could hardly remember Thorin as such; the soft words of a love just blooming, the gentle touches and reverent kisses. Now, when he closed his eyes all he could see was that face he so cherished, twisting in a rage he had never known and instead of words of love falling from those lips he received hate and scorn. 

His hands fell limply on his lap and his head bent forward with the crushing weight of disappointment. Not disappointment that he had ever come upon the journey, because while Thorin may have banished him, he still held all of his dwarven family close to his chest and he was more than grateful that they once again had a home. No, his disappointment lay with the knowledge that he had finally given his heart to another, only to have it crushed so ruthlessly. 

He guessed the heart of a hobbit simply couldn’t compare to the heart of a mountain. 

Bilbo opened his eyes and stared unseeing for a moment, attempting to collect his wandering thoughts. Things were not to be changed and dwelling would only cause more pain. With a sigh, he went to retrieve his shirt when he froze mid grasp, mouth hanging open and eyes wide. He jerked his hand back and grabbed his stomach, hand on either side of his naval and stared.

No, it couldn’t be. The Gods would not be so cruel—and yet, they had given him Thorin only to rip the dwarf from him but a few short months later. But this… this was incomprehensible. Bilbo wanted to believe he had scrubbed too hard, so hard that he had peeled off several layers of skin and that the mark would simply fade back in eventually, but he couldn’t fool himself thus. 

His mark had faded and every hobbit knew what that meant, even if Bilbo was having problems trying to process it. There was simply no other excuse, was there? But… perhaps it was false. It had been known to happen on occasion in the Shire and with all the stress and trauma he had experienced recently a false positive wasn’t too out of the question. His body was sure to be completely out of sorts, his mind certainly was to say the least. 

“Gandalf,” he shouted as he jumped to his feet. He hopped over a log and raced to the wizard’s side, completely ignoring the fact that he had left his shirt upon the rock by the creek. “Gandalf, you must check. It’s false, I know it, but still we must be sure, so check.” Bilbo stopped in front of him, hands upon his hips and looked at the wizard expectantly. 

“And what is it do you wish for me to check, surely you can see the weather is fine and we would not have stopped here if I felt any danger nearby.” Gandalf continued to puff at his pipe, his eyes twinkling in merriment, though because he found the hobbits behavior odd or because he knew exactly what Bilbo was talking about and was simply being facetious he couldn’t tell.

“My stomach, of course,” he indicated his mark less stomach with exaggerated hand signs, “what else would I be talking about?” Honestly life as he knew it was hanging upon the balance and the old wizard was playing daft. 

“Yes, well,” he inhaled from his pipe once more before leaning forward and examining Bilbo’s stomach. “It appears to be quite hobbit, does it pain you?”

“Quite…you must be joking. Of course it’s not paining me, but don’t you see?!” His hand passed over the area right above his bellybutton where his mark had shown since his coming of age. “The daffodil! My daffodil is gone and you must check and it’s not true because… because it simply can’t be true.” Eru preserve him if it was true.

Gandalf sat up quite suddenly, setting his pipe aside and laid his hand on the hobbit’s stomach and began to mutter words that Bilbo could have no hope of understanding on a normal day never mind when his world was being turned inside out. 

Bilbo could feel a strange warmth infuse him as Gandalf pressed his hand just a bit firmer to his stomach; though the warmth did nothing to transform the ice within his chest. He licked his lips, nerves getting the best of him, as Gandalf slowly eased away from him, an undecipherable look upon his face. 

“Well,” Bilbo said, voice catching slightly, “it’s false right?”

Gandalf was silent a moment his eyes never leaving Bilbo’s. “I’m afraid not, my friend.”

It felt as though his stomach had dropped out of his feet, all the air leaving him in a great whoosh and suddenly he felt very dizzy. “A-Are you certain?”

“Yes.” The answer was so simple, yet wholly insurmountable.

Bilbo stood still, as though time itself had frozen, before the anger started bubbling beneath the surface. How dare he… how dare he?! That great, arrogant, no good dwarf was going to be getting a piece of his damned mind if Bilbo had anything to say about it. Because only Thorin son of Thráin, son of Thrór, great arse under the mountain would knock Bilbo up and then kick him out of his home. If he thought he was going to get away with it, then he had another thing coming. Bilbo was a Baggins of Bag End and that was… that was completely unacceptable!

Fuming in his spot, Bilbo took a few calming breaths before marching back over to his shirt. He slipped it on, angry fingers nearly pulling the buttons off instead of buttoning them up and then stormed back to Gandalf. “Well, let’s go,” he snarled and ignored Gandalf’s look as he walked past the wizard and toward the way they had come.

“And just where do you think you are going? The Shire is this way,” though as he spoke he followed obediently behind the irate hobbit, their meager gear clutched in his hand having nearly been left behind in Bilbo’s haste. 

“I’m not going to the Shire,” Bilbo yelled, not even sparing Gandalf a glance. “I’m going to strangle a King.”


	2. Worries Along the Road

“This is getting ridiculous,” Bilbo muttered to himself as he buttoned up his pants and returned to the waiting wizard on the road. It certainly wasn’t the first time that he had been forced to immediately relieve himself, since they left Erebor only now Bilbo understood the cause and was getting beyond flustered by his body suddenly taking control. Perhaps he had been too emotional to notice the sign before but that didn’t make recognizing it now any more comforting. “At this rate we’ll be lucky to make it back before the fauntling is here.”

“Come now, Bilbo. It’s not as bad as all that.” Gandalf said as he turned to walk beside the hobbit. 

“Easy for you to say,” he grumbled back, hiking his bag higher upon his shoulder. 

“It’s not as though you weren’t having this problem before you discovered your mark gone, yet only now are you complaining—”

“Of course I’m complaining now! And I would’ve complained about it earlier but my mind has been just a bit preoccupied.” He growled out. “Besides, if you’re all knowing, why didn’t you realize what had happened sooner?” Bilbo shot a glare to Gandalf as if his pregnancy was all the wizards fault which, to be honest, it kinda was; since he never would have met Thorin if Gandalf hadn’t seen fit to invite him on an adventure. He was tired, he was irritable, he was hungry though he could hardly keep anything down, he was sore and more than a little ready to take out some of his frustration on someone else. Gandalf just so happened to be within striking distance.

“I know a great many things, Bilbo Baggins,” Gandalf said, stopping to look Bilbo in the eye. “Not one of which would include whether or not you and Thorin were using any sort of protection and I would think you would be glad for my lack of knowledge on the subject. Or had you been hoping I had been taking note of every dalliance between you two and watching each morning to make sure you put the proper herbs in your tea that even a newly matured hobbit would know to do?” 

Bilbo flushed pink from the tips of his ears to the tops of his toes. He quickly turned away from the sparkling blue eyes of the wizened wizard and started a brusque walk away, muttering over his shoulder as he did. “Of course not,” it was rather hard to keep _that_ scandalized tone out of his voice. “I didn’t mean—” he sighed, “I just…” he stopped and bowed his head, taking several deep breathes before turning back around and meeting Gandalf’s eyes. “I’m sorry; I don’t mean to take this out on you my friend.”

Gandalf smiled, walking up to the hobbit before laying his hand on Bilbo’s shoulder and giving a comforting squeeze. “Think nothing of it.”

Bilbo’s mind was a whirl as he turned to once more follow the wizard down the path. It felt as though he was running in circles, to Erebor, to the Shire, to Erebor…but would he have to turn right around and go back to the Shire? No, no matter the outcome he was not going to allow that dwarf to once more shun him and if Thorin didn’t see the side of reason he was definitely going to be seeing a side of Bilbo’s fist.

“Your thoughts grow dark,” Gandalf murmured next to him.

Bilbo allowed a self-deprecating chuckle to escape. “My thoughts are hardly anything else of late.”

Bilbo’s hand shifted to rub lightly on his stomach, almost without his even seeming to realize. It was getting late and they would have to break for camp soon. He had really been hoping to make more progress but it wasn’t to be helped. 

“Do you wish to keep the babe,” Gandalf suddenly asked. 

“What?” Bilbo choked out. “Of course I do. What type of question is that?”

“An honest one, given your reaction to the discovery and your attitude since.” Leaves began to crunch beneath their feet and Gandalf’s staff as they entered a grove of tall trees nearly skeletal from the fading of the season. They would have to travel cautiously lest they be caught in an early winter.

Bilbo sighed, running a hand through his slightly longer hair. “It’s not that. I mean, it’s unexpected, sure, but it’s hardly the little one’s fault that its papa is a worm.” He straightened up and squared his shoulders before adding, “And no matter what happens when we reach the mountain, it will always have me and I… I believe I will spend the rest of my days worrying over it.”

Gandalf gave Bilbo an encouraging smile and another pat on the shoulder. “You are going to be a wonderful Da, Bilbo Baggins.”

He couldn’t help the smile that managed to break though the pain in his heart. “I don’t know about that but… but I’ll do my best.” 

“That’s all anyone can really do, though I do wonder what you mean…” Gandalf trailed off, as he was known to do when he wanted you to follow along like a fish on the line.

Of course, Bilbo was no different and despite his initial reaction to ignore the wizard, he couldn’t quite manage it. “Wonder about what now,” he grumped. 

Gandalf inclined his head and said, “You said no matter what happened when we reached the mountain. What exactly are you expecting upon our arrival?”

Bilbo shrugged and said in a rather offhanded manner, “Besides Fíli being crowned King upon Thorin’s untimely demise?” 

Gandalf chuckled but did not speak, allowing Bilbo the time needed to gather his thoughts and voice the actual concerns troubling him. 

“I don’t know Gandalf,” he said in exasperation. “Any number of things could happen. For all I know Thorin could have a kill on sight order on me and I won’t even get the chance to move beyond the gate.”

“I assure you that will not happen.” His tone was grave and allowed for no arguments and so Bilbo continued. 

“For all that I have to tell him, and believe me there is a fair bit of words that need to be spoken between me and that dwarf, he could choose not to believe me. I know that no other known race of Middle Earth allows for the males of the species to carry young and he will think I am attempting to deceive him to once again get close to his _precious,_ ” he spat the word, “treasure and this time he will not just be attempting to cast me out but my child as well.” 

Nodding, Gandalf said, “Now that is a possibility and if it comes to that will you let him banish you once more? Will you stand back and not fight as you should have, as you should have let me?”

“That’s different Gandalf!” Bilbo flung the bag higher on his shoulder, as it had started to sag, with a bit more force than necessary, nearly knocking him in the back of the head. He was becoming irritated again and was ready for the conversation to end, but Gandalf didn’t seem to be done or to sense his desires.

“What difference do you see?”

“Because it was just me then!” Bilbo yelled, “The sickness had already gripped him so tightly and we’d hardly been in the mountain at all. I tried to speak with him before the battle, Gandalf.” He sighed, rubbing his hands over his face and fighting the tears that were threatening to fall. He had cried over Thorin enough, he was determined to not shed another tear in that dwarf’s name. “I tried to reason with him, I begged and pleaded and all he did was threaten to end me where I stood.”

 _Your_ services _are no longer needed, Burglar. You were a convenient hole but not worth half the trouble you have caused. I have no need of your lies or your treachery and I swear to Aulë if you are not gone from my sight in the next instant Orcrist will have a new target to cleave._

Pain seared through Bilbo’s chest at the memory but he shook his head and forced himself to focus on Gandalf’s words. “You know he was not in his own mind, Bilbo. It was the gold sickness; he never would have said those things otherwise.”

“Or perhaps the sickness just brings out the deepest darkest thoughts. The things you only think when the night is black and no one is near to hear the whispers of your hate,” Bilbo countered, bitterness clinging to every word.

“You don’t believe that,” Gandalf said, sincerity lacing his voice.

Bilbo shrugged, “Don’t I?”

“No.”

He crossed his arms and sent a rather heated glare Gandalfs way. “And what makes you so sure of that?”

Gandalf held his silence for a moment before giving Bilbo a sideways glance. “I am so certain because a Da would not go willingly into a troll cave with an innocent held within them. If in your heart you thought Thorin a danger to you, then he would also be a danger to that child and that, my friend, is something you would not allow.”

Bilbo’s shoulders dropped and he dipped his head forward, sighing. “It doesn’t change anything, though. He is still sick and there is no cure. I will go to Erebor and I will have words with him and I know…” his voice stuck in his throat but he took another breath and continued, “I know he will cast me aside once more but I won’t let him force me away. I will stay in Dale if need be but it is the safest place for me to carry the little one. I have no other choice, Gandalf. You know that. If I go back to the Shire pregnant without a father in tow the fauntling will never have a chance of a good life in Hobbiton. It will be difficult enough for it being half dwarf but to not have two parents… I won’t subject my child to that.” 

Bilbo’s eyes strayed to his feet, kicking up leaves and clumps of dirt as he walked. “And that is the difference.” He said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “Before, there was a choice and now I have none.”

“There are always choices that can be made. If you worry about the parentage you could always say that the child’s father died in the battle.” Gandalf’s thought held reason but none that Bilbo had not already thought of on his own.

“And if, by some miracle it does come about? The truth, that is.” Bilbo shook his head, “No. It would not be worth it. It is one thing to be considered an unrespectable hobbit and another thing entirely to be labeled a disturber of the peace. I will not let that happen to my child and if I have to box Thorin Oakenshield to get him to allow me to stay within the area then I will.”

Gandalf was pensive for a moment before saying slowly as though he were not sure of the validity of his words, “I… do not think that will be necessary.”

Bilbo raised an eyebrow and gave the wizard a look that so clearly asked if the wizard had lost his last marble. “Well I would love to hear why you think it’s going to be so easy.”

“The child,” he stated simply.

“The child?” Bilbo parroted.

“Perhaps,” Gandalf said, “I need to find you one of those horns Óin uses—”

“Honestly, Gandalf,” Bilbo interrupted, throwing his hands up in the air and stomping his feet with the next few steps he took.

“I think something,” he continued as though he had never been interrupted, “has damaged your hearing although I know something must have stolen your patience for you seem to have absolutely none as of late.” 

Bilbo pursed his lips though he did not utter a word at the look Gandalf sent him. 

“Now if you’re ready to listen, I will explain,” he glanced to the hobbit and waited expectantly.

Letting out a sigh of exasperation, Bilbo nodded his head. When Gandalf still remained silent, eyes locked on him, he cursed to himself before saying, “Yes. Please. Continue,” through gritted teeth.

Nodding, Gandalf turned forward once more. “Did you know that for the dwarves the males exceedingly outnumber the females?”

Bilbo wanted to scream. He always hated it when Gandalf went off in a tangent to create a roundabout way to the answer he was looking for. Half the time he forgot the question by the time it appeared anyway. “Yes I do remember Bofur mentioning something of the sort.”

“The males have always outnumbered the females but not as badly as they have since Smaug’s attack.” Gandalf stopped for a moment as though to collect his thoughts before voicing another question. “Do you know why dwarves covet gold with an almost unrivaled greed?”

Bilbo huffed a laugh. “Because they _are_ greedy and can’t tell friend from foe when there is something shiny off to the side?”

“While that can sometimes be the case,” Gandalf dipped his head in acknowledgement, “it is not their main goal. Their females only rarely fall pregnant and when they do, for the health of the mother and child, they must stay within their mountains and near their gold. You see dwarves are creatures of the earth. They are linked in everything within it though nothing more so than its precious gems and stones and the females need to be surrounded by those elements in order to flourish during a pregnancy, both for the good of the mother and the child.” 

“So when Smaug attacked that day,” Bilbo started but couldn’t quite put into words what he knew to have been true.

“They lost a great deal of their females and young when the dragon overtook the treasure room.” Gandalf confirmed and Bilbo felt his stomach drop to his toes. “Ever since that day, all the dwarves have suffered because while there are other mountains and other sources of riches, there were none as plentiful as Erebor. If a female birthed within the Lonely Mountain it was almost a guarantee the child would survive. Now, their pregnancies rarely make it to birth and often times the child is lost within the year.”

Bilbo felt suddenly lost himself. The horrors the dwarves had faced, he simply couldn’t image what it would have been like to suddenly have nearly no reason to hope. He wondered why the company had not mentioned that particular aspect of their loss before, but pushed the thought aside. It was not his business and he was sure they had their reasons as they did for everything else.

“Why are you telling me this, Gandalf?” He asked instead, “Because it seems like if it was something I should have known about then one of the others would have mentioned it.”

“You’re right,” Gandalf acquiesced, “it is not something that is common knowledge because it gives the other races a very obvious weak spot in their defenses.”

“So why tell me now?” He asked again.

“Because if indeed Thorin is still stuck within the gold sickness, the news that he has created a child with you might be enough to pull him from its depths. You see,” Gandalf paused and looked Bilbo directly in the eyes, “the only thing dwarves value more than their gold is their children.”

Bilbo stopped and stared up at Gandalf in disbelief. “You… you really think that it could pull him from it?”

Gandalf shrugged, “Nothing else has ever worked but since it originates around their fertility and need to create offspring, I believe it is a very good possibility. That is not to say that you won’t need to give him a good thrashing to get him to listen to you in the first place,” he added, humor coloring his words and finally lightening the dour mood that had surrounded them.

Bilbo laughed and shook his head. “You know, even if he doesn’t need it I’m going to give it to him anyway.”

“It’s less than he deserves,” Gandalf smiled before started to walk on. “Come, we can make it just a bit farther and we will be able to spend the night in the clearing we had before.”

“Blast,” Bilbo suddenly shouted, causing Gandalf to stop and turn to him. “Just a moment,” he said apologetically and dropped his bag. “I need the bush, again.” 

“If I did not know better I would say you were marking your territory,” Gandalf laughed at the undignified squawk Bilbo let out. 

When Bilbo walked back onto the dirt path Gandalf was still chuckling lightly to himself. “Oh, shush you. It’s not my fault.” 

It didn’t take much longer for them to reach the clearing, set up a fire and lay out their bedrolls. Gandalf had agreed to take first watch while Bilbo tried to make something edible from their meager rations, though in the end Gandalf was the only one to eat since the smell alone was enough to send Bilbo’s stomach rolling. He ended up simply calling it a night and slipping into his bedroll though sleep eluded him for quite some time. He knew Erebor was close and couldn’t decide if he would rather get there as soon as possible or drag his feet. The feelings of anxiousness and excitement blended together in his stomach until he was finally pulled into an uneasy sleep.

That night, his dreams were filled with children made of rock, with gems for eyes and a mouth of gold that ambushed the citizens of the Shire and made off with all the blueberries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to have him in Erebor here and the confrontation with Thorin but they just weren't cooperative. Like two teenagers with unlimited calling these two were. 
> 
> I also planned on getting another chapter out tonight but this is the first time I'm posting here on AO3 and I'm trying to figure out formatting. Some reason it's not happening the way I want it to but I suppose I'm as satisfied with it as I'll ever be.


	3. The Arrival

The mountain had changed much in the two months that Bilbo had been absent. There were many more dwarves about and though they garnered quite a bit of attention most of it was pointed toward Gandalf and not himself. It would seem that his ability to stay somewhat undetected remained and he had never been so grateful for it. Okay, he was rather grateful when he had managed to sneak away from the goblin attack and of course the spiders and then rescuing everyone from the dungeons of Murkwood and one could never forget a dragon, but that was beside the point. 

It became apparent that Gandalf had been right in his assumption that none would try to stop them or attack as they entered the mountain and with each step Bilbo felt his stomach twist tighter and the anger burn closer to the surface. Never before had he felt such a mix of emotions; the almost unmatched fear entwining so easily with the fury. 

Had it really only been such a few short months since he had thought the mountain as his home? At some point all his hopes had become inexplicably connected to it and he had dreamed of being there with his friends and family to help rebuild Erebor back to its former glory. Now, seeing the reconstructed entryway, he felt a small piece of himself shrivel away. Now, there was no sign of the dust that had so previously encased nearly everything. Now, new furniture sat where old debris had lain and the slabs of rock that had fallen were gone, replaced by carpeting and decoration. Now, the walls that had once been crumbling and caving from the rampage of Smaug were once more whole and adorned by colorful tapestries depicting great deeds; many, it seemed, from their very own journey. Now, as he stood in the place that he had once wished to call his home, he saw only a prison and his jailer. The dwarves had no need of a hobbit to help rebuild their reclaimed kingdom, just as Bilbo had no need of a dragon to destroy his home. 

Both had happened nevertheless. 

Bilbo shook his head in an attempt to force away his maudlin thoughts. What was done was done; he was here now on an entirely different matter and he couldn’t afford to let his mind wander. He didn’t care what Thorin thought of him, what cruel things might be thrown at him, at the end of the day he was going to ensure that he had a place that would be safe for him and his child. If he got to give a certain dwarf a piece of his mind in the process, well he couldn’t exactly be faulted for it. 

“Excuse me,” Gandalf asked as a dwarf went to pass them in the hall. “Would you happen to know where we might find the King?”

“Aye,” the dwarf responded, idly twirling a silver bead woven into his long red beard. “He should be in the council chambers. Ended ‘bout a half hour ago and he generally stays to go over other matters after.”

More words were exchanged but Bilbo tuned them out. He was but moments away from seeing Thorin again after their last rather memorable encounter. Already his emotions were running wild and he wasn’t completely sure he was going to start shouting at the King or simply break down and bawl like a little fauntling upon seeing the infuriating dwarf. 

He pressed a hand to his stomach in an attempt to sooth the roiling, churning feeling within. Not for the first time he thought that he would have been better off skipping breakfast that morning, but Gandalf had been insistent. He’d been eating less and less the closer they got to Erebor and while a good portion of it was because his body simply refused to keep anything down, morning sickness his arse, it also had a lot to do with nerves and the lingering anger of the entire situation. 

Bilbo had never imagined his life taking the turns it had. In his boyhood dreams he’d thought of a life well lived in Bag End. That he would get married to a nice lass or lad that his parents loved and they would have several children and that they would only get to live in his childhood home upon the death of his parents. A death that wasn’t supposed to happen so soon and by such horrendous means. With their deaths it was as though Bilbo’s little hope for the future vanished and while he never again dreamed the same, he certainly had never thought he would find himself one day, unwed, and carrying the child of a dwarf who would rather see him dead than anywhere near his precious gold. Things were supposed to be different, _he_ was supposed to be different, he was supposed to…watch where he was going.

With a yelp, Bilbo grabbed hold of the dwarf that he had nearly collided with, just barely managing to keep from face planting. “Whoa, alright there? You should really…Bilbo?”

His stomach suddenly spun but Bilbo forced back the saliva that pooled in his mouth and looked up into the kind brown eyes of his first ever dwarven friend. “Bofur,” he whispered and a moment later felt the air whoosh out of his lungs as he was pulled into a gigantic hug.

“By the Gods, is it really you Bilbo?” He asked, hat going askew as he crushed the hobbit to him. “Thought I’d never get to see you again, but… why did you leave? Without even saying a word?”

Bilbo pulled back to look the other in the eye, though Bofur’s hands remained on his shoulders. “You mean you don’t… hate me?” He asked voice soft and barely tinged with hope.

“Hate you?” Bofur’s voice was incredulous. “Why in all of Arda would I hate you?”

Glaring, Bilbo attempted to shrug off the others hands, though he held fast. “You know very well why,” he snapped, “after everything that happened with the stone—”

“The stone?” Bofur interrupted. “You mean the Arkenstone? You can’t possibly think we would be cross about you with that. You saved our lives, everyone knows it.”

“Not everyone,” he muttered, looking down at his bare feet and absently thinking he should have spent a moment to fix the hair atop them; though he was so far from being a respectable hobbit that there was hardly any point in it anyway. 

“Aye, I heard the things that Thorin said but, laddie, he was wrong. You have been and shall always be a friend to dwarves, to me.” It was said with such sincerity that Bilbo couldn’t help but look up into the warm, welcoming eyes, and smile. 

“Truly?” He asked, still somewhat timid. 

“Look at you, fishing for compliments. You’ve spent too much time with the wizard,” he nodded his head toward Gandalf who had stopped to watch the entire interaction with a smile on his wizened face. 

“Oye,” Bilbo shouted and half heartedly slapped at a laughing Bofur. 

“In all seriousness, though, Bilbo,” Bofur said suddenly, the smile dropping from his face. “We’ve all missed you. _All_ of us.”

And just like that reality came crashing back down on Bilbo and his good mood vanished, the twisting feeling in his gut intensifying. He felt himself close off, his eyes become cold and his lips thinned together in anger. “We’re actually here to see T—” He stopped himself and took a deep breath before practically spitting out the words, “the King.”

“Bilbo,” Bofur pleaded. “Things are different now. When he awoke after the battle, he wasn’t the same. He tried to search for you, wanted to go directly after you but he couldn’t, he still lov—”

“No,” Bilbo shouted, causing more than one dwarf in the hall to stop and stare, though Gandalf’s glare quickly had them walking on their way. “I don’t want to hear it Bofur and I swear by Eru if I hear another word of praise for that man from your lips I will _not_ be held responsible for my actions.” His throat closed up with emotion, whether to keep the sobs at bay or the screams he didn’t know. 

“We were told that he would still be in the council chambers, perhaps you might escort us there, Bofur?” Gandalf asked, kindly though there was an edge to his words. 

Bofur looked Bilbo up and down, concern so very evident on his face. He seemed to wish to say something before thinking better of it and nodding his head instead. “Aye, I was on my way there myself. It’s become a bit of a tradition,” he continued saying as they all turned and started again down the hall, “for the company to gather together after the morning council has been released and share a meal. We’ve been calling it elevensies.”

Gandalf hmm’d while Bilbo very nearly tripped over his own feet and only just managed to avoid looking like a larger idiot that he already felt. Though he was rather touched, he chose to keep his mouth shut for the moment. Truth be told, he was getting angrier and angrier with each step he took and he would much rather use that anger against the one who deserved it, instead of his friend. No matter how helpful said friend thought he was being. 

Before he knew it they were standing before a large closed door and Bofur seemed to hesitate. He glanced at Bilbo and seemed to know, though Bilbo would not meet his eyes, that this visit was not going to go well. “Are you s—”

“Bofur please,” Bilbo interrupted. 

With a sigh, Bofur opened the door and suddenly a smile lit his face, though it was rather shaky, as he called out to the rambunctious crowd of dwarves, “Look at what I nearly ran over laddies.”

Cries of Gandalf were immediate as he was quite easy to see over Bofur and Bilbo took a breath before entering in behind the wizard. Silence almost immediately followed and his eyes quickly scanned all those in the room and at the table. 

Bifur stood off to the side and he seemed to freeze, eyes landing on the hobbit. Bombur was seated directly in front and facing away from them but it only took a moment for him to look over his shoulder and freeze with a biscuit halfway to his mouth. Nori and Dori halted mid tussle over an item that Bilbo would be willing to bet didn’t belong to either. Beside them sat Ori, book open and a pen in hand that was hovering over a page, leaving a rather large ink spot. He could see Óin, a new ear trumpet in his hand though he seemed to be forgetting the need to bring it to his ear. His brother Glóin was beside him and had stopped with a mug of mead partway to his mouth. Fíli and Kíli were half on and half off their seats as they had frozen mid struggle while Balin sat just to the left of the head of the table, fingers interlaced in front of him and such sadness showing in his eyes. Dwalin stood to the right, arms crossed over his chest and looked as immovable as ever to Bilbo. 

Bilbo wanted to resist, wanted to save himself the pain but he couldn’t stop his eyes from meeting the last dwarf in the room, Thorin. He sat at the head of the table looking every bit the King he was and the second his blue eyes locked onto Bilbo’s, it felt as though his world was falling apart anew. Everything stopped for Bilbo as he watched the King slowly rise from his seat. The faces of the other dwarves and the presence of Gandalf just behind him slowly faded until all he could see and feel and fear was Thorin who was slowly approaching him as though through a dream. 

“Bilbo,” the word was a whisper but suddenly Thorin was directly in front of him and with a jump his heart started beating again, hammering in his chest. “Bilbo, I—”

But Bilbo didn’t give him a chance to speak, couldn’t allow the cruel man before him to spit more filth back at him, to degrade what they had once had as though it were nothing more than common trash in the street. Without a thought his hand lashed out and he struck Thorin as hard as he could, ignoring the sudden pain in his hand and the cries that erupted in the room, he did it again, and again before Thorin’s hands came up to grasp tightly to his wrists and stop his assault. 

“Hobbit,” Thorin growled out but Bilbo was not going to have any of that. He wrenched his hands free and backed away from the man he once thought he would spend the rest of his life with.

“How dare you!” He shouted, the room once again quieting. “How _dare_ you do this to me. After everything I had given up for you, after everything I did for you and all you did was throw me away.”

“Bilbo,” Thorin tried again.

“No, you had your say, or do you not remember it, _your majesty_?” He spat the title back at Thorin as though it were filth upon his tongue. “Because I can assure you I remember, each and every word. But it wasn’t enough was it? It wasn’t enough that you took me from my home, that you stole my heart but you had to take my future as well. Any chance that I might have had at being able to go back to the Shire is long gone as the child of your seed grows within me.”

Noise erupted in the room but Bilbo had no ears for it, nor eyes for any but Thorin who he had never seen look quite so staggered. “What lies are you spewing—”

“No lies, though you may choose not to believe it,” he said. “It is your child within me, your babe that you planted while you were just using a _convenient hole,_ and I hold you to no responsibility beyond the fact that you owe me. Yes, you owe me, Thorin Oakenshield, for all that I have done for you and since I no longer have a choice in this matter than neither do you. I have no home and no other options and I shall stay here or at the very least in Dale without your interference. I will not let you hurt me or my fauntling and you will not cast us out or so help me Eru I will kill you where you stand.” 

Utter stillness filled the hall and it was only then that Bilbo noticed Gandalf restraining a rather irritated looking Dwalin, no doubt having attempted to intervene before. However it was only a passing thought for Bilbo who felt all the energy draining from his body and the twisting in his stomach suddenly became very intense. He swallowed quickly, the saliva pooling in his mouth and closed his eyes in an attempt to keep the room from spinning so unpleasantly.

“Bilbo—” Thorin began once more, such complete wonder and wretchedness coloring his voice.

But it was too late for Bilbo who had finally lost his battle with his stomach. He doubled over and heaved the entirety of his stomach contents directly onto Thorin’s pants and boots. Bilbo could distinguish the bits of venison from his breakfast that morning before forcing his eyes closed once more and dry heaving for a spell. He suddenly felt gentle hands rubbing his back and soothing his hair away from his forehead. 

It took a moment but he was finally able to straighten himself and turned to see that Glóin had been the one to come to his aid. He accepted the cup of water from Bofur and the mint from Óin in an attempt to remove the fowl taste from his mouth. 

Bilbo finally was able to gather the courage to look at Thorin who somehow still managed to look regal with vomit coloring his clothes and it only served to piss Bilbo off even more. He straightened up, heat coloring his cheeks, and wiped away the tear tracks that stained his face, giving Thorin one of his best glares. “I’m not sorry for that,” he announced, because he felt he was rather through apologizing to this dwarf for anything.

He could hear snickering, and he assumed it to be Fíli and Kíli, though Bilbo didn’t remove his eyes from Thorin who stood there, stunned, his mouth partially hanging open. Bilbo squared his shoulders, and with steel in his eyes demanded, “I will have your answer now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the confrontation happens. Let me tell you I'm super nervous about this one. I hope everyone likes it. Also writing during that time of the month leads to super angst, I mean really I had to rewrite several parts earlier when I realized I had gone just a bit far too over.
> 
> So this is all that's been updated on the meme. Works been just a bit too much for me but I hope to have the next chapter out in a day or two. Enjoy and as always comments and kudos are much appreciated. ♥


	4. A Hormonal Hobbit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not beta'd. ♥

Silence fell over the room as Bilbo settled his hands on his hips and glared up at Thorin. He could feel icy dread mingling with the anger that had settled in his empty stomach but refused to show it. He was not about to give Thorin another weak point to attack. 

It appeared Thorin was having problems of his own as he attempted to process everything, however. He repeatedly opened his mouth as though to speak before closing it once more and furrowing his brows together. The effect was a rather intense glower that had Bilbo shaking slightly, though he fought to hide it. He had made his decision, said what he needed to say and he would stand by it. He was not going to allow Thorin to glare him into submission. 

The tension between the two was nearly palpable when a hand landed on Thorin’s shoulder and broke the staring contest between them. “Of course you can stay, lad.” Balin said, though his eyes were on Thorin and while Bilbo couldn’t be sure but he thought that the dwarf’s hand tightened just a bit more where it rested on the King’s shoulder. “Isn’t that right?”

“I—That is—” Thorin grumbled, his words seeming to trip over each other. “Yes.”

Bilbo released a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding in the first place, his arms falling limply to his sides and it suddenly felt as though all the energy had been sucked out of him. He hadn’t been struck down for threatening the King, or hitting him for that matter, and in the end he was going to be able to find a safe place to stay. That counted as a win, right?

Finally tearing his eyes away from the two dwarves in front of him, who were having some sort of silent communication, he glanced about the room. A flush quickly crept up his neck when he realized that nearly every pair of eyes rested on him, each in varying stages of shock. He shuffled uncomfortably, a hand absently rubbing the back of his neck as he did and avoided looking at the others again.

“Right,” he said when it appeared no one else was going to speak. “Since that’s all settled Gandalf and I should head out so we can find—”

“No!” Thorin shouted, interrupting Bilbo and causing the hobbit to step back from the rather aggressive looking King. “You will not be going anywhere.”

“I beg your pardon?” Bilbo huffed up in indignation. How dare Thorin think he had any right to order Bilbo around as though he were one of his loyal subjects. “Something must have rattled loose in your head if you think that I’ll allow you to make demands of me.”

“Think what you will, hobbit, but you’ll not be leaving this mountain,” Thorin growled out, taking another step closer. 

Bilbo balled his hands into tight fists, trying to suppress the rage and desperation that suddenly surged through him. “And what now? Am I suddenly your prisoner? Do you intend to throw me into your dungeon or do you plan to behead me in front of all your people?” 

Cries erupted around the room and while Bilbo couldn’t make out the individual words he gathered enough to know that the dwarves were objecting rather venomously. Thorin, however, looked as though Bilbo had struck him. He stood still, mouth slightly open and blue eyes wide in abject horror. 

Once again Balin came to the rescue, this time resting a gentle hand on the hobbit’s shoulder. “You have nothing to be punished for, Bilbo.” He said. “Thorin was trying to tell you, in his own way,” here he shot a not so subtle look to the King, “that we’d prefer for you to stay within the mountain rather than outside of it. That was your request was it not? To either stay here or in Dale?”

“I—” he started, “well yes. I suppose that _is_ what I wanted.” Balin gave a nod of acknowledgement and a pleased smile as he removed his hand and started to turn toward Thorin once more. “But,” Bilbo hurried to add, “It’s my choice, isn’t it? To stay here or return to the city of men.” 

Thorin immediately opened his mouth and if the look on his face was anything to go by, Bilbo was not going to like what came out of it. He was stalled, however, with a quelling look from Balin. “Of course it’s your choice, Bilbo.” Bofur said as he slid next to the hobbit with another cup of water and gave a considering glance to Balin. “You’re no prisoner here and if you wish to go to Dale we’ll accompany you to keep you safe there.”

“Oh, no, that’s not necessary.” Bilbo said, shaking his head at the other dwarf as he accepted the cup and took a small sip. 

“Of course it’s necessary, Mister Boggins.” Kíli said from across the room, his brother Fíli nodding beside him. “Aye, Kíli’s right. That’s our cousin you’re carrying and it wouldn’t be proper to allow you out there all on your own.” 

“Now see here,” Bilbo said, puffing his chest up and glaring across at the two boys still sitting at the table. “I can take care of myself and I’ll thank you for remembering that. If I can go off adventuring I sure as Eru can stand to find _peaceful_ accommodations in a town of men.”

“Be that as it may, burglar,” Dwalin suddenly said from behind Bilbo where the wizard had finally released him. “Not all dangers are from outside. Dwarven pregnancies are tricky things, you’d do best to remain in the mountain where experienced eyes can watch you.”

“That may be so, but I am no dwarf and this is no dwarf pregnancy,” Bilbo bounced a bit on the balls of his feet as he spoke, he was beginning to be in serious need of the tree again and was not willing to have another accident in front of the dwarven company. He passed the half full cup of water off to Bofur with this thought in mind.

“Your right lad,” Balin said. “But the child _is_ half dwarf. The pregnancy may not be like the ones we’re used to, but it may also not be like the ones you’re used to either. Are you willing to risk the little one on a chance?”

Now it was Bilbo’s turn to gape, his mouth opening and closing. “Of course I wouldn’t—I mean, why would you—” Bilbo sighed, running a shaky hand through his hair before taking a deep breath. “What would you have me do then? I’ll not be a prisoner and I’ll not be ordered around by the likes of him,” he gestured absently to the King and with his eyes focused on Balin, completely missed Thorin’s flinch at his words. 

“It would be best,” Balin began, choosing his words carefully, “if you were to stay here. We have the space and the means to protect you, and the knowledge to ensure that should anything go wrong it won’t prove fatal.” 

“Wise words indeed,” Gandalf said as he came to stand next to Bilbo. 

“You agree then?” Bilbo asked, glancing up at the wizard and forcing back the irritation that attempted to leak into his voice.

“I think that this pregnancy may be the first of its kind, or it may not. What’s important is that you have as much help as possible should anything unexpected occur and it would be much simpler for the dwarves to reach you here, should you need it, than in Dale where their timing could lead to an unfortunate situation.” Gandalf said, such understanding shining in his blue eyes that made Bilbo just about want to strangle the wizard for being so unhelpfully reasonable. “The choice is, as always, yours to make, my friend.”

The torches that lit the walls cast a soft golden glow about the room as Bilbo sighed and glanced around watching the shadows flicker about. He did not want to meet anyone’s eyes lest he give in too quick. Though he already knew his answer, it was the same reason he could not have travelled back to the Shire. If he wasn’t willing to risk the life of his child there, then he certainly wasn’t going to risk it in Dale. Not when there was another option available to him that would prove safer.

“Then I will stay here,” he said and immediate cheers echoed about the room. “But,” he was quick to add and the noise very quickly died back, “I will not be restricted.” He gave a pointed look to the King who stood stiffly with a scowl on his face. “I can come and go as I please and if I choose to leave at any point, no one will attempt to force me to stay.”

Agreement was immediately given, though Bilbo had only eyes for Thorin because in the end it mattered little what the others agreed to. If their King demanded his restriction, they were honor bound to obey. “Thorin?” 

The King stood there, his jaw tight and brows drawn together. His arms were clasped behind his back and his nostrils continued to flare in what Bilbo assumed was annoyance or an attempt to control just how much he was breathing in of what Bilbo had left on his trousers. “You,” he began finally, his voice gravely with an emotion that could not be pinpointed, “have my word.”

“Wonderful,” Kíli said as he jumped from his seat, his brother quickly following his lead and standing as well.

“We’ll show Bilbo to his rooms, it looks like he could use some freshening up.” Fíli added, coming around the table with his brother and attempting to grab hold of the hobbit to drag him from the room.

“You both have training. Bofur will take the hobbit to a room.” Thorin interrupted them, his eyes stern and his demeanor rigid. He added to the dwarf in question, “Upper north halls will do.” 

Bofur gave a nod of acknowledgement and placed a gentle hand between the hobbit’s shoulders to begin steering him away from the ensuing argument between the three Durins. “Aye, let’s get you settled laddie. You look like you could use a break and we should have you all freshened up and ready for a proper lunch in no time.” He said as he grabbed Bilbo’s pack from where it had been dropped earlier.

“I don’t smell that bad,” Bilbo said as he gave himself a whiff and Bofur laughed at the disgruntled look on his face.

“No, you’ve definitely smelt worse before.” He agreed with a smile. 

“Is there anything you’d like for lunch in particular, Bilbo?” Bombur asked as he slid up to the pair, Gandalf trailing behind them quietly. 

“Eh, well,” Bilbo started, and though the thought of food made his stomach queasy he knew he needed to attempt to at least eat something. “You’re in charge of food then?” He asked instead in an attempt to hold off the thought just a moment longer.

“Oh, aye,” Bombur said, his chest puffing out in pride. “I’m in charge of planning all the meals for the royal family and rationing out the food to those who have their own hearths to cook by.”

“The royal family is the only one guaranteed food?” Bilbo said, quite alarmed at the thought that so many could be going hungry.

“Oh, no,” Bofur said, quick to dissuade the idea from the hobbit.

“Bo’s right. I personally plan the meals for the royals but we feed everyone in the mountain. We have a hall set aside for breakfast, lunch, and dinner that all the dwarves may attend, but everyone is on their own for anything in-between. So is there anything in particular your craving? My wife loved leg of goat dipped in bacon fat and topped with cheese when she was carrying our latest little dwarrow.” 

Bilbo made a rather disgusted noise in the back of his throat and quickly shook his head. “Oh no, nothing like that, please. Honestly I don’t think I could stand to stomach any meat. Do you have some fresh fruit for porridge or something similar?”

“No meat?!” Bofur and Bombur exclaimed at the same time.

“But how could you not want meat, Bilbo?” Bofur asked and did nothing to hide the astonishment in his voice.

“No meat, no meat,” Bombur was muttering shaking his head as he did so. “But you hobbits like green things don’t you?” He suddenly asked as he stopped and stared at Bilbo who nodded slowly as though afraid of what the dwarf’s reaction would be. “Well this just won’t do,” he snarled. “We haven’t got hardly anything like that stored in the mountain.”

Bilbo watched with worried eyes as the heavier dwarf started pacing before them, muttering to himself. Bilbo glanced over at Bofur and raised an eyebrow but the other only shrugged, clearly having no other idea of what was going on either. 

“Well, that’s it,” Bombur said suddenly. “I’ll have Ori meet you in your room in a bit and he can get a list of all the things a hobbit needs to be healthy and then I’ll make sure Balin can get everything traded into the mountain immediately. As for lunch today I know I can whip up something light on your stomach, no meat, and I think there may still be some berries left over from that pie last night, or maybe…” but he had already started walking away and Bilbo lost the rest of the sentence. 

Bofur just laughed and clapped a hand on Bilbo’s shoulder before continuing on. “That’s Bom for you,” he said. “Now let’s go get the two of you settled in a room.”

“Oh, that will be unnecessary, Master Dwarf,” Gandalf suddenly said and once more the group halted. “I’m afraid I’m needed elsewhere at the moment but don’t worry it shouldn’t take long.”

“But Gandalf,” Bilbo cried out. “You said you weren’t going to leave like that while I’m carrying.”

“And I shan’t. However my assistance is needed within this mountain.” He gave Bilbo an altogether disappointed look. “Or did you expect me to hold your hand in everything you did for the next 8 months?”

Bilbo huffed and turned around, walking quickly away from the two and causing Bofur to hurry along after him. “Do whatever you will; we both know you’ll do it anyway.”

“Doesn’t stick around much, that one.” Bofur said a twinkle in his eye that had Bilbo giving a surprised laugh.

“No, I suppose a wizard’s work is never done.” He agreed. They walked along in silence, though Bilbo began to notice that the reconstruction and restoration was beginning to look less and less optimal. He mentioned as much to Bofur who sighed.

“No, it looks like we are farther ahead than we really are. The main hall and the council room, as well as the throne room have all been cleared away. It was priority because we have to appear stronger and more ready than we actually are.” Bofur twiddled with the edge of a braid as he spoke. “The upper north hall was, thankfully, not so badly damaged by Smaug. So the company has been staying up there, though traditionally it was used to only house the royals and important guests.”

“Is that what Bombur meant about others not having hearths of their own?” Bilbo asked as he carefully made his way up the stairs following Bofur.

“Aye,” he said. “Not many of the homes have been through proper reconstruction yet. We’ve not even opened up the mines but the rooms connecting to the treasure room are next on the list and then I believe construction will be split between homes, mines and opening up the guilds and market. We’re waiting for more caravans from the Blue Mountains to arrive. The first should be here within the next month or so, and work will start going much faster then. Progress is slow, but it’s just nice to be home,” he gave a sidelong glance to the hobbit as they came abreast at the top of the stairs. “Ya know?”

“Yes, I suppose so…” Bilbo responded, quietly and trailing off as he glanced around the hall they found themselves in. It was by no means in perfect condition but it was most definitely inhabitable. Though he wasn’t sure if he was looking at a home or a prison, he supposed time would only tell.

“Right,” Bofur said as they came to a door about halfway down the hall. “This room was cleared out for Lady Dís but we’ll just clear another for her before she arrives. You have Fíli and Kíli next door here,” he indicated the door just to the left. “And Balin and Dwalin are sharing one just to the right here. Thorin’s is at the end of the hall and Bifur and I are right across from you.” He indicated the room directly opposite them. “Bombur is on our right while Glóin is to the left. Óin has a small room in the healer hall since he spends most of his time down there trying to make sure we stay stocked and healing those that have need. Dori, Nori and Ori share the room just at the beginning of the hall down there,” He indicated the one cleared door right next to the stairs they had climbed, “though Nori spends most of his nights sneaking about the camps set up outside, doing Mahal knows what.” 

Bofur pushed the door open and sat Bilbo’s pack just inside. “You can get freshened up and I’ll be back to grab you for lunch. Expect Ori in just a bit though, I’m sure Bom’s already gone on quite the tirade about having proper nourishment for our hobbit.”

“Alright, that’s fine,” Bilbo said as he stepped into the room. It was relatively clean, everything appearing sturdy and at least he could see a bed through an open door. Oh, Bilbo would do just about anything to be able to sleep on a bed again. Even one covered in pink and purple quilts adorned with what appeared to be gems. They were high enough in the mountain that small windows had been created in the ceiling allowing subtle true light to filter into the room along with the torch light that decorated the walls. There was a fireplace set into the stone and a sparse sitting area around it, along with a table and some chairs though Bilbo paid little mind for it. His eyes were set on the bed. 

“Did ya need anything else at the moment, Bilbo?” Bofur asked as Bilbo slowly wondered into the room that housed the bed and eased down on it. Yes, this was heaven, he thought.

“No, thank you Bofur. I should be fine.” He laid back and closed his eyes as the soft cushion enveloped him. 

“Do me a favor, Bilbo,” Bofur said, standing at the entryway to the bedroom, though his only response was a half hearted mutter from the hobbit. “Don’t leave the rooms without someone to escort you.”

Bilbo sat up so suddenly he was very nearly dizzy though he did not let that deter him. With a glare on his face he said, “What do you mean? I thought I wasn’t a prisoner here or are you as skillful a liar as your King.”

Bofur flinched back and closed his eyes, bowing his head. “It’s not that. You haven’t a chance to learn which areas are safe and which are still incredibly unstable.” He said, softly. “It would be safer to have someone guiding you until you’ve learned the ways a bit better.”

“Oh, Bofur…” Bilbo said quietly, suddenly feeling extremely guilty. “I’m sorry, you know—”

“S’Alright,” Bofur muttered. “Just relax and someone will be by shortly to take you to lunch.” He was out in the main room and closing the door behind himself before Bilbo had a chance to respond. 

He sat there, staring at the door for a moment before flopping back on the bed and closing his eyes. The look of such hurt on the kind toymakers face was etched behind his eyelids and he couldn’t help the shame turning in his stomach. Bofur had never been anything but kind to him and what did Bilbo do to repay it? Lash out and spew hurtful untruths. Just because one dwarf was a liar didn’t mean they all were and Bilbo knew that better than anyone. He refused to act like Thorin who shunned all elves because of the actions of a certain one in particular; Bilbo would not do the same thing to the dwarves. 

With that in mind, Bilbo sat up and vowed that he would give Bofur a proper apology when next he saw him. After, of course, he managed to find which door would lead to his restroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo, longest chapter yet! All of your awesome comments and kudos are so incredibly appreciated. I'm glad so many like the story so far and I hope you all enjoy this newest chapter. With work leveling out I hope to have chapter 5 up soon. ♥
> 
> Also for anyone confused about Gandalf mentioning that Bilbo had 8 months left, hobbit carry for 12 months so at this point Bilbo is 4 months along and not 1. As always any comments and criticisms are much appreciated.


	5. Pain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to Werecakes because your reviews made my day and put a smile on my face, hope you like it hun! ♥

The room felt ice cold, or perhaps that was just him. He sat, unmoving and barely blinking on the bed, eyes staring down at his folded hands resting on his lap, though he did not see them. He was thinking about the past, everything that had happened…everything that he had done and all that he had lost. 

When Thorin set out with his company to reclaim their home he had dreamed of what would be. He had dreamed of the reclaiming of his birth right, the return of a home for his people, the riches that would finally cease their struggle. He had dreamed of finally living again instead of just surviving. Only, things did not turn out the way they should have and instead of living he felt as though he had died. Sometimes, he wished he had.

The Lonely Mountain was lonely no more, filled again by its citizens, few though they were at that point. However, each day more dwarves appeared and the mountain was slowly coming to life. Thorin, though, continued to feel empty as though he had been hollowed out and all that still stood was but a husk of what had been. 

What kind of monster was he? How could he have watched his grandfather descend into madness and then allow that very disease to grasp hold of him? It had felt as though the glare of the gold had seared his very soul and all that mattered was the shining rock that lay before him. And the heart… oh, how he had wanted that wretched piece of stone. Wanted it so totally, so absolutely that nothing else mattered. Not his people. Not his family.

Not his One.

Bilbo.

Bilbo.

Bilbo.

Bilbo, oh Mahal what had he done? How could he have done the unspeakable to his One, to his true heart? Thorin buried his face in his hands though he did not weep. He was undeserving of that release. He had earned his pain with every vile word, every scornful glare, every vicious deed and they heaped upon him like lashes to the skin. There was no ending the agony of having betrayed his One.

Thorin was a hero of his people, a shining beacon for the future. He had survived the long journey, fought a battle, destroyed the Defiler once and for all, and had managed to keep every member of his company alive, if a little damaged. He had reclaimed Erebor and finally given his people a home once more. And in the end, he had failed magnificently. For what was a home without a heart and he had crushed his so thoroughly that nothing would ever be able to fill the empty void that throbbed in his chest. 

He remembered all he had done as though through a fog. The memories came and while he knew them as his own, it was still like watching through another’s eyes. That dwarf could not be him, could it? He would never say those things to Bilbo; he would never threaten his hobbit. No! He would _not_ cast his One out as though he meant little more than the dirt beneath his boots… but he had. 

Waking up after the battle had been agony. He had sat right up as though propelled through the air by an unseen force, uncaring for the wounds he aggravated and pulled in doing so, his mind only on one thing. And it hadn’t been for the gold he had hoarded, or for the Arkenstone that he had sought with such a one minded determination that nothing else had mattered, nor his friends or kin. It had only been for Bilbo, his One and the absolute yearning to know that his Bilbo had survived. 

Then reality had crashed on him with the weight of a thousand losses. He could remember Balin’s words as he stood by Thorin’s bed a look of such disappointment etched onto his aged face. 

_He’s gone, Thorin._

_You sent him away._

_You wouldn’t_ listen _to reason._

_What were we supposed to do? Your word is law._

_Was he hurt? No, he wasn’t hurt, Thorin, he was_ destroyed.

_For Mahal’s sake, Thorin, don’t be a fool. Go after him!_

But he hadn’t. How could he? He’d done it. He’d forced the one perfect thing from his life and shattered it. He didn’t deserve Bilbo, he didn’t deserve forgiveness. And so he had set upon his mind that all he could do was build. Build his people the home they needed, build his heirs into what they needed to be in order to rule after him, build the walls around himself so thick that none would ever touch the ache left inside him.

But then… a child. They were going to have a dwarrow, and Bilbo hated him. Thorin was going to be a father, and Bilbo would never trust him again. There was going to be a little being that was half him and half Bilbo and complete perfection, and he didn’t deserve to have either of them in his life, but oh, how he wanted it. He thought he knew what it was to want something; to have that fire in the belly that gave one courage to do the things that were not only hard but nearly impossible. He had wanted to be a good King. He had wanted to protect his people. He had wanted to reclaim their home. He had wanted the Arkenstone. But everything paled in comparison to the yearning he now felt for his One, for their child, for the life they should have lived and now would never know. 

“Locking yourself in your room and brooding isn’t going to change anything,” a voice suddenly said from the bedroom door.

“I want to be alone,” Thorin growled out, not bothering to lift his head from his hands and face his long timed advisor and friend. He was tired of seeing the disappointment on Balin’s face. He saw it enough in his own reflection; he did not need it from others. 

“I’ve left you alone,” Balin said, arms folding across his chest as he leant against the frame of the door. “We all have, but enough is enough. Thorin, this isn’t just about you and Bilbo anymore. There is a child—”

He snapped. “Do you think I don’t know that?” 

“A child, Thorin,” he continued already well versed in the King’s manners and attitude. “And I want to know that you plan to fix this.”

“Fix this,” Thorin said, incredulously, head popping up from his hands to stare at Balin in shock. “Balin, there is no fixing this. After everything that happened, all that I’ve done—”

“What you’ve done is made a mistake.” He held up a hand to forestall Thorin’s interruption. “And I’m not talking about what you did to Bilbo. You were sick Thorin, we all know it, Bilbo knows it and just like you don’t blame someone for acting out when sick with the fever and delirious, none blame you for what you did and said while under the influence of the gold. No, your mistake,” his voice dropped, eyes filling with sadness, “is that you let him go. Is that you didn’t trust in what you had and you didn’t fight for him.”

“How could I have?” Thorin shouted as he stood from the bed. “He never would have forgiven me—”

Balin held his place. “He would have.”

“He hated me,” Thorin implored, he needed Balin to understand.

“He loved you, perhaps does still,” Balin would not be deterred. 

“You just don’t understand,” he growled as he began pacing the space in front of the bed. “I don’t deserve him, I don’t deserve them.”

“Your right,” and just like that Thorin came up short and turned to his old friend, surprise showing clearing on his face. “You don’t deserve them. You didn’t fight for him, you let him go, and you made all the choices, every decision on your own as you always have and that has led to this point and allowed them to leave your life. You _don’t_ deserve them.” 

Balin walked into the room and took a seat on the bed, looking up at Thorin expectantly. It took a moment before Thorin moved, legs feeling as though they were made of stone and trembling with each step he took. He sat next to Balin, but could not meet his gaze.

“You may not deserve them, Thorin.” Balin began and waited until Thorin managed to pull his blue eyes up to meet his own. “But Bilbo deserves happiness. Bilbo deserves to have all this resolved and he deserves to have you, if he still wants you.” He held up his hand once more to stop Thorin’s denial. “Which I do believe he does. More important, however, is the child. That little dwarrow deserves to have the life we fought to give our people. It deserves to be loved by both its parents and not have to grow up with emptiness in its life that your absence would bring. That youngling deserves a family, to grow with its parents and cousins and all its many uncles, to see the majesty that is Erebor and know its heritage.”

The words swirled around his head. He ached, oh how he ached to believe what Balin said. The thought that he could have his family that he could have all that he lost made the anguish in his chest lessen just a bit. But how could he ever convince Bilbo of his feelings now? How would Bilbo ever trust him again? “How do I do that,” he finally said and for the first time in two months his voice was not so hollow. 

Balin laid his hand on Thorin’s shoulder and squeezed gently. “You fix this. You put aside your pain because it doesn’t matter. No matter how much you have been hurt in this, I guarantee that it is nothing compared to Bilbo’s pain. So you put that aside and you put away your pride and you _fix_ this.”

“But how, Balin how could I ever—” He began, as Balin pulled away from him and strode towards the door. He stopped just beyond it and turned to look once more at Thorin still seated on the bed. 

“You’ll figure it out,” he said, certainty and belief in his voice. “It is very rare, Thorin, that we get second chances in this life.” His eyes looked distant and for a moment Thorin could see his own pain echoed in Balin before it was suddenly gone. “Don’t let this chance pass you by. Don’t allow the past to color what you do here, because you won’t be graced with this fortune again. If you want them, go and claim them.”

He watched as Balin turned into the other room, his shape blending into the shadows and he distantly heard the door to his rooms slam shut. Only distantly, because while he was still reluctant, while he still knew he was wholly undeserving, a plan was already beginning to form and he would not let it go. He would not let them go, not for all the gold and treasures of Middle Earth and if he had to prove that to Bilbo… then he would. Because he was a dwarf and above all dwarves held their treasures close to their hearts and that’s exactly what Bilbo was. His One, true treasure and like any dwarf, despite the neglect he had shown and his nearly all consuming shame, he would do was dwarves did whether he thought he deserved another chance or not. 

He would hoard his treasure till his dying breath, if only Bilbo would allow him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here is a bit of Thorin's perspective of everything going on as Werecakes wanted to see. I hope it lives up to expectation and everyone likes this little insight. 
> 
> The question about the mark on Bilbo's stomach is planned to be explained a bit later. He will have to explain the hows and whys of male hobbit pregnancy to the dwarves at some point soon, maybe the next chapter, and the marks origins and reasons for existing will be explained then. 
> 
> As always all the comments and kudos make me a very happy person. Although you couldn't tell with the angst I've been putting out. I really need to get some fluff up in here, lol. Enjoy everyone! ♥

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm taking some liberties with this since it has been a shamefully long time since I've read the book I'm going off Wiki for some facts about the last bit of it. Not to mention I may muck around the history to fit my needs. We shall see where it takes us lol. I hope everyone likes the story and of course comments would be much appreciated!


End file.
